


The Family That Cooks Together

by Zelgadis55



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Chibi, Cooking Lessons, Food, Gen, General fiction, Literature, Turtle Tots, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelgadis55/pseuds/Zelgadis55
Summary: At the request of one turtle, Splinter decides to give his sons their first cooking lesson. Chibi turtle fic around age 7. Written for the  November 2016 prompt - Food.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: G
> 
> Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters belong to Nickelodeon.
> 
> Summary: At the request of one turtle, Splinter decides to give his sons their first cooking lesson. Chibi turtle fic around age 7. Written for the [](http://writer-nexus.deviantart.com/) [November 2016 prompt - Food](http://fav.me/dan1tab). 
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> 
> Comments, thoughts and concrit is always welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> * If you ever see my stories posted anywhere other than under the name Zelgadis55 at Deviant Art, FFNet, AO3 or Live Journal, then they have been stolen. Please report them.
> 
>  
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> 

 

#####  **The Family that Cooks Together**

 

Staring in through the kitchen door at his father and brother, he can't help the unfamiliar and unpleasant twinge that passes through him as Splinter praises Michelangelo yet again.

Only a few weeks ago, Michelangelo had expressed interest in learning to cook and helping their father with the meals. Considering the bright natured turtle's seeming inability to focus in other lessons, Splinter had at first been leery of the idea, but soon caved to the pleading and puppy dog eyes. Within a couple of weeks, Splinter was happy to allow the little turtle to make lunch unsupervised and to help with most other meals.

As he watched, he knew he should be happy that his wild brother had found something to take pride in. Unfortunately, having grown used to being praised in nearly everything else, he couldn't help but wish that just _some_ of that extra approval was for him too.

Wandering away, finger to chin in thought, he pondered on how to get some. It wasn't long before a plan formed and he smiled.

All he needed to do was to talk to Master Splinter sometime before bed.

-:-

Splinter gazed around at his gathered students; at Leonardo sitting stiffly to attention, one hundred and fifty percent focussed on him alone; Donatello eagerly attentive, but with eyes drifting slowly to the dojo exit to where his latest book no doubt awaited him; Raphael, impatiently watching him, obviously wishing he'd just dismiss them already so he could go play or wrestle one of his brothers; and Michelangelo, fidgeting ceaselessly, head and gaze drifting about the room only to keep snapping back to him as his son remembered he was supposed to be paying attention.

He nodded then spoke up, cementing everyone's attention on him. “One of you brought an important matter to my attention last night, and after much thinking on the subject, I have decided it is time to begin teaching all of you basic culinary skills.”

“Culin... what skills, Master Splinter?” Raphael asked, face screwed up at the unfamiliar word.

Donatello sighed louder than necessary and leaned towards Raphael, “He means cooking skills, Raph.”

“Really, Master Splinter?”

“Indeed I do, my son.”

Leonardo somehow managed to sit up even straighter, extremely pleased.

“But... we got you and Mikey to cook for us,” Raphael complained. “Why do the rest of us have to learn something so sissy?”

“It's not sissy!” Michelangelo retorted unhappily, looking at his brother with a hurt expression. His gaze shifted towards Donatello, a hint of fear passing over it, “Is it?”

“Of course not. Many of the best chefs in the world are men, Raph,” Donatello stated loftily, standing up for Michelangelo. He then looked back to their father. “But much as I love learning new things Master Splinter, I'd rather learn about other subjects. Maths, science and all about the world. Can I please sit this out, Master Splinter?” “Me too! I wanna sit this out too!” Raphael immediately added, head snapping to stare hopefully at their father.

“You may not,” Splinter replied firmly. “Cooking and fending for yourselves is an essential survival skill. What if I could not make it home in time to feed you? What if I were delayed for some time, hours or perhaps days? What would you four do then? Starve?”

“Get Mikey to feed us, duh!” Raphael retorted loudly as if he thought the question stupid. Splinter shot him a sharp look and Raphael's expression turned guilty as he realised his lack of respect.

“Sorry, Sensei,” he muttered. “But Mikey knows how and loves it, so why should we bother?”

“What if Mikey wasn't able to?” Leonardo asked softly.

“Why wouldn't I be able to?” Mikey squeaked loudly, his horror building as his wild imagination began feeding his brain terrible thoughts.

“You might be out with me,” Splinter immediately soothed, knowing his son's thoughts were likely thinking 'eaten by monster or sewer gator'. He didn't voice the possibility of Michelangelo being hurt or sick, knowing it would only serve to upset the young turtle.

“Oh,” Michelangelo wilted in relief at the simple answer.

“The four of you already often help me with food gathering. Cooking is a skill just as important as that, and is something you all must learn. For now you may go about your free time as normal, but I wish for you all to report to the kitchen an hour before dinner time for your first lesson in the kitchen.”

-:-

The four brothers stood in the kitchen in various states of impatience as they waited for Master Splinter to show.

“This was your stupid idea, wasn't it Leo?” Raphael grumbled, roughly pushing at his blue banded brother.

“Yep!” Leonardo proclaimed proudly, pushing Raphael back just as hard.

“Why couldn't you keep your stupid mouth shut and leave me out of it?” Raphael complained, pushing back once more.

Michelangelo tossed his fighting brothers a wary look. “Don't fight in here, it's dangerous," he warned, remembering his first lesson in the kitchen and how their father had drilled in the dangers of sharp knives and boiling pots repeatedly, making sure he'd focus in here from the start.

“Don't tell us what to do!” Raphael retorted, shooting Michelangelo a quick glare before letting it settle back on Leonardo. “You're not Master Splinter _or_ Splinter Junior.”

“Michelangelo is not, though you would do well to heed his words as he is correct in this instance,” Splinter's disapproving voice spoke up from the kitchen doorway, making all four brothers jump in fright at the sudden and otherwise silent appearance of their sensei. “If you are not careful, you could hurt yourselves rather badly, which is why you will only practise cooking under my direct supervision. Am I understood?”

“Yes Master Splinter!” four voices chorused loudly in unison.

“Good,” Splinter nodded with approval. “Now, for our first lesson, we will first talk about safety in the kitchen, then make a simple vegetable stir-fry.”

-:-

Not for the first time in his longer than average life, Splinter wondered just what he had gotten himself into by teaching all four of his sons at once, and he puzzled over how human teachers managed with full classrooms. At least by now his sons had a few years of ninjutsu training and other lessons under their belts, but that didn't prevent them from being any less of a handful during his lesson on knife safety and how to use the sharp implements for chopping and cutting. More than once he'd had to reprimand Raphael for swinging it around, pretending to be a pirate, and Michelangelo for focusing more on what his brothers were doing than what he was supposed to be doing. Donatello was obviously bored, and his gaze kept drifting out the door to where his book on space was apparently calling him. As for Leonardo, whenever Splinter averted his gaze to watch or instruct anyone else, he would find some way to call attention to himself once more, or stand there watching him as if waiting for something, instead of chopping his assigned vegetables.

After separating Raphael and Michelangelo, placing Leonardo in between them, Splinter finally felt he was getting some place. “Very good, Michelangelo. Your chopping technique improves every day.”

Michelangelo beamed proudly, pushing away the carrot to take his piece of celery instead.

“What about me, Master Splinter?” Leo asked hopefully, grinding to a halt as he sought approval.

Suppressing a sigh, he didn't want to discourage Leonardo's eagerness after all, Splinter looked critically down at the vegetables Leonardo was in charge of. “Your technique is quite good for a single lesson, my son. However, if you wish to eat tonight, might I suggest you pick up the pace a little?”

Splinter turned to see Raphael chopping wildly at his assigned vegetables, a gleeful, almost manic grin in place as he wielded the knife. “Raphael, this is not a race. Please slow down and try to cut even slices. The food will cook much better if the pieces are similar in size.”

“Yes, Sensei!” Raphael obediently replied, and kept right on doing as he was.

Splinter closed his eyes a moment and fought with himself not to pinch the bridge of his snout. Then he turned to regard Donatello, whose interest had waned even further. “Donatello, perhaps you should think of this exercise as if you were performing one of the experiments you so enjoy.”

Donatello's brown gaze drifted inquisitively up to meet Splinter's.

"We have to follow a recipe, a method, to gain our desired result, in this case a meal,” Splinter explained, hoping to increase his intelligent son's interest. “In order to do so, you must follow the process carefully, yes?”

A little more invested now, Donatello nodded, but Splinter could still see his mind was elsewhere.

-:-

Having demonstrated how to heat up the ancient wok and coat it with a dash of oil, Splinter watched his students add their portions of chopped vegetables to it, instructing Michelangelo to go first since he had the most experience in the kitchen.

It wasn't long before each turtle began taking turns at stirring and tossing the contents with the spatula.

“I'm glad you guys are learning to cook too!” Michelangelo beamed as he stirred. “Cooking's so much fun! And it's even more fun doing it together!”

Raphael snorted indignantly. “You got a strange idea of fun, Mikey! This is work! Lame, _boring_ work and there's nothing fun about it!”

Michelangelo shot his brother a troubled look. “It's fun spending time with you guys and then we get to eat it together after! Wait'll you see how much everyone enjoys eating something you helped make! You'll get it then!”

Leonardo frowned as he considered Michelangelo's words. So far, this hadn't been fun at all. This didn't come as easily to him as he'd hoped, and hadn't had the encouragement he'd expected, not like he did in ninjutsu and meditation, or even their other lessons. As a result, he'd found cooking boring and barely worth his time. He'd do better just by training more instead. Surely his father would be proud of him then.

Donatello stared up at Michelangelo, head canted curiously. He could see his brother's point, yet he'd still rather be doing something less mind numbing. “I'm with Raphie on this one, Mikey. I can think of lots of other things to do more fun than this.”

Michelangelo's face turned crestfallen. To him it sounded as though his brothers didn't _want_ to spend time together, and that hurt.

Donatello's eyes widened as he realised he'd somehow upset his brother, and he thought back on the conversation to work out why. “I like having fun with you guys too! It's just... not by cooking.”

The timer dinged to let them know the first three minutes were up. Michelangelo reset it and reluctantly held out the spatula for the next brother to take. With a soft smile, Donatello took it and climbed up onto the chair Michelangelo jumped down from.

For the next three minutes, Donatello stirred slowly and evenly, just like they'd been shown minutes before, and the three minutes felt more like an hour, even while listening to his brothers chatting and arguing behind him. When his time eventually finished, Donatello held out the utensil to Leonardo, and made way for him.

Seeing his most responsible son taking his turn, Splinter decided to take the opportunity to slip out the room a minute.

Aware of Splinter leaving and no longer watching him, Leonardo stared after his father's robed back miserably. This whole thing really hadn't gone how he'd imagined; Splinter's praise was sparing and now... now he couldn't even hold his attention. Without realising, Leonardo stopped stirring, just holding the spatula in hand.

Just as the timer went off indicating Raphael's turn, Leonardo became aware of an unpleasant odour reaching his nostrils, but he ignored it in favour of making way for his roughest brother.

When Raphael stood upon the chair to stir the contents of the wok, he quickly discovered some of it wouldn't budge, so he violently jabbed the implement at the food to loosen it. Then he began stirring wildly and vigorously, determined to be the best at stirring. He'd show his brothers how it was done! Before long, pieces of cooked and overcooked vegetables flew about the kitchen.

“ _Argh!_ ” Donatello suddenly cried out in pain, clutching his arm protectively as small tears leaked from his eyes and dribbled down his face.

Instantly, Leonardo and Michelangelo were by his side as Raphael turned and stared down at the scene, concerned by the cries.

“What's wrong, Donnie?” Leonardo asked fearfully, unsure how to help.

“It burns,” Donatello whimpered softly, peeling away his hand so his brothers could see his forearm.

His eyes widening at sight of the angry, red mark on his brother's arm, Michelangelo suddenly remembered Splinter's repeated warnings to him over the last few weeks and what to do. “It'll be okay, Donnie,” he reassured. “I know how to help.” Just as Splinter arrived to see what the cries were about, Michelangelo grabbed hold of another chair, dragging it to the sink. He quickly clambered onto it to turn the tap on just as Splinter picked up Donatello and carried him over.

“Michelangelo, please turn off the stove,” Splinter commanded as the little turtle made way for his father and injured brother.

Michelangelo nodded and ran to do as he was told.

-:-

Splinter suppressed a sigh, his fourth that night, as he crunched his small portion of dinner. Although mostly ruined, they couldn't afford to waste any of it, their supplies were just too low. Instead he'd kept the worst parts for himself, leaving his sons to eat the more edible remains of the meal.

His gaze roved over his sons as they picked at their food, some complaining more than others. He was incredibly thankful that Donatello's injury had been minor; there probably wouldn't even be any scarring as long as he continued to treat it with aloe vera twice a day.

Cooking lessons had not been such a good idea after all, he realised. His sons needed to learn to fend for themselves, yes, but they were just too young. Perhaps he should have started simpler. Teach them to make sandwiches and instant noodles instead.

When Donatello had been injured, Michelangelo had proven he took his lessons to heart, and Splinter couldn't be more proud of him. No, he would not penalise Michelangelo by stopping his cooking lessons, the remaining three on the other hand were a different story. Perhaps it would be best for all to wait a few more years before trying anything more complicated again.

Splinter held his stomach beneath the table, doing his best not to show how the 'food' disagreed with him.

Yes, he would definitely hold off for a few more years. It would be safer for them all.

-:-

Owari

 


End file.
